Just Stop
by christylee
Summary: COMPLETED! Stop the world, I want to get off! College plans, peer pressure, selfdoubts, a demanding girlfriend. It’s all too much, and Gordo cracks under the pressure. Fortunately, a special friend shows him how to JUST STOP.
1. Morning

_Here is a new story about Gordo, but it is not part of my "Gordo Series." If there is any confusion, please visit my Profile page. At the bottom I have added a listing of my stories, what is part of the series, what stands alone, and what's on the way. For the time being, just know that the Gordo in this new story is not the same Gordo of my other stories._

_I want to send out a special word of thanks to cka3ka-13 (Please! Please! Get another name that is easier to say and spell and remember!). It was a conversation with her that was the inspiration for this latest story. I tried to make it dark, but I don't know how well I have succeeded in that. At any rate, I hope it's angsty enough for all of you._

_-_

_- _

**Five a.m.**

David Gordon found himself doubled over on the side of the road, catching his breath, feeling he wanted to vomit.

Man, he hated this! Whose bright idea was this, anyway? Oh yeah, his parents. Thanks a lot, Mom and Dad.

The sun had not yet risen, but Gordo was awake, dressed and running down the side of the empty highway, running until his legs buckled and his chest ached from too many breaths of the cold morning air.

At seventeen he should be snug in his bed at this hour of the morning, dreaming about his girlfriend…or maybe even dreaming about some other girl who was… _not_ his girlfriend. He knew who he preferred to be dreaming about, but he dare not tell anyone.

And he dare not tell his parents that he hated running. They would be so disappointed, and if there was one thing Gordo could not bear, it was the parental disappointment. Mom and Dad were fully convinced that their son's place on the Hillridge Track Team was the feather in his cap, the extra "oomph!" that would separate his already outstanding college application from all the other outstanding college applications received at every East Coast Ivy League school.

After all, explained Dad, academics alone were not enough. Nowadays, a young man who expected to go far in life had to be sure to prove that he was "well-rounded." Music, sports and civic responsibility were a must. The public school system made sure every young person did a certain number of community service hours, and Ma and Pa Gordon had been happy to have that burden off their shoulders. However, attempts to have David achieve any kind of musical success had failed dismally, which surprised both his parents, since they had convinced themselves that children who were good at math, as was their son David, would be inherently adept at music.

As a child, Gordo had endured torturous hours of piano, violin and clarinet lessons before his parents at last came to the sad realization that their brilliant child was no musical prodigy.

After that they laid off him for a while, which Gordo considered a blessing. Then, midway through his sophomore year in high school, the gentle suggestions started up. "Why not try a sport?"

Gordo laughed. "Yeah, right, Dad. I'll go out for the basketball team. Right away."

"David," scolded his psychiatrist mother. "When you reinforce your negative self image with derisive inner dialog---"

"Mom, I'm short," Gordo reminded. "It's not negative, it's not derisive. It's a fact. I'm not a basketball player. And I'm not a football player, either. Unless you want to see me in a body cast."

"What about baseball?" his mother suggested. "You always liked that as a child."

Gordo pressed his lips together. So did his dad. They were both remembering Little League. Gordo, in fact, had not liked that as a child. He had despised being part of a team, wearing a uniform, pretending to be "just one of the guys." He was most assuredly not just one of the guys. Gordo was an individual, and his individuality had gotten him into more than a few skirmishes with his fellow ballplayers. Mom had usually not been there, Saturday morning being her customary beauty parlor appointment. Dad had been there. And that is why Dad said now, "Well, how about Track, son?"

Gordo was starting to hate this conversation. He could tell they were not going to let up. "To run really fast you need long legs, " he said flatly.

"To run fast, sure. But to run long, all you need is endurance. And that you've got in abundance, David."

That he did, Gordo had to admit. When he and Lizzie had been kids, and their parents had taken them to the beach, Gordo could run up and down the shoreline all day long, never tiring.

"We'll see," Gordo sighed, but already he had a feeling there was no use fighting it.

Over the next several months his parents continued dropping hints about how proud they would be to see him on Cross Country. They got him a subscription to Runner's Monthly magazine. They bought him expensive Nike running shoes. By the time eleventh grade rolled around, Gordo felt he had no choice but to at least go to the tryouts. Maybe he wouldn't be chosen. At least he could tell his parents he tried. They would be disappointed to hear he had tried and failed, but not as disappointed as they would be should he not even try.

Unfortunately, the tryouts went extremely well, and Gordo soon had a place on Cross Country. He tried to recapture the joy of running up and down the beach as a child, but it just wasn't happening anymore. He waited for the "Runners High" he had read about in the magazine his parents got him, but that never happened either. The only thing that ever happened was that after about three miles on an empty stomach first thing in the morning, his legs buckled, his chest ached, and he felt like he was going to vomit.

The silver lining to this cloud was that Track season was almost over. Soon it would be the holidays, providing a blessed relief not only from running, but also from all things academic.

And all things social.

Gordo had a plan for the holiday break. He was going to sleep late, dreaming of…that other girl…then wake up, eat potato chips for breakfast, and watch movies all day long.

He had already chosen the lineup. He had several Movie Marathons planned. All the Star Wars films in one day, all the Lord of the Rings another. Steven Speilberg's biggest hits, closely followed Alfred Hitchcock. And to top it all off, his all-time favorite Guilty Pleasure, Leathal Weapon I, II, III and IV.

During this time, he did not want to see Lizzie, his girlfriend, or Charlie, his best friend, and he most certainly did not want to fill out any more college applications! He was going to sit around in his pajamas all day long, isolated from the world, and the only person he would open the door for would be Miranda, if she came over with some really angsty teenage movies from the 1980's, anything with Jon Cryer or Molly Ringwald in it, the kind of silly stuff they loved to make fun of, but secretly enjoyed so much.

Jogging back towards his house, Gordo began to feel better, reviewing his plans for the holiday break. Of course there was the Winter Wonderland Dance that Lizzie was so excited about. He would have to do that with her, there was really no way he could get out of it. But after that…after that…his life would be his own again.

If only briefly.

-

**Seven thirty a.m.**

The parental units were at their usually places at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, reading the newspaper. Gordo came downstairs, showered and dressed, flinging his backpack on the living room couch.

"David," his mother said, never lifting her eyes from the paper, "I wish you wouldn't do that. Your book bag belongs on the floor, not on the furniture."

"Sorry, Mom," Gordo said, going back to right his wrong. A moment later he returned to the kitchen, pouring a bowl of cocoa puffs.

His mother looked up disapprovingly. "How can you eat that stuff, dear? Why don't you have a muffin instead?"

"Zucchini? Carrot? Tofu? I don't think so, Mom."

Suddenly his dad flicked his newspaper closed and said, "David! SAT registration coming up soon."

"Dad, I took the SAT's already. Twice."

"I know. But, as they say, 'Third time's the charm.'"

"Dad," Gordo said, striving to remain calm. "My scores are already in the 90th percentile. How much more charming do I need to be?"

"It never hurts to give it your best shot."

"I've given it my best shot. Twice!" Gordo said, testily. "That's why my scores are in the 90th percentile."

"Well then, better than your best shot. You can do that, can't you, son? If you're hoping to get into pre-med, it certainly can't hurt to do better than your best."

Gordo sighed, eating his cocoa puffs, deciding to say nothing. He did not want to go into pre-med. Sure, his parents were convinced he would make a great shrink, just like them, but Gordo had decided long ago to forge his own path. He wanted to study film production, and he wanted to stay close to home, attending any one of the California State universities, which all had excellent Film Studies programs.

He did not want to travel to the east coast and go to an Ivy League school. But not matter how many times he expressed all this to his parents, they did not want to hear or understand.

In fact, after a few more moments of silence, his mother suddenly exclaimed, "Oh! That's right! David, we forgot to tell you, there's a really good chance we'll be traveling to Boston this December."

_Great!_ Gordo thought. As long as "we" meant his mother and father, and he would be staying home. He always looked forward to having the house to himself. Even if Grandma Ruth stayed over, that would be okay. She would let him sit around all day in his pajamas, eating potato chips.

"Great!" Gordo said out loud. "What's in Boston?"

His mother leveled a stare at him over the top of her reading glasses. "David…"

_Crap!_ So that's what this was about.

"You remember my friend Angela and her husband Tom. You know that Tom is teaching now…at _Harvard,"_ she added meaningfully. "Well, we've been invited to spend the holiday with them. It will be an excellent opportunity for you to take a look around…"

_Crap!_ David thought again. He did not want to go to Boston, he did not want to look at Harvard. He wanted to stay home and watch movies.

"I…I'm not so sure that's a good idea for me…at this time…" he began uneasily.

"Not a good idea?" Dad questioned. "Why in the world not?"

"Well," he reasoned, applying a little psychology of his own, "I'd hate to fall in love with the place and get my hopes up---"

"Not at all!" Dad said. "Why, when I was your age, I had already known for years that Harvard was the only place for me---"

"Yeah, but Harvard may not be the only place for me," Gordo tried to explain.

"Of course it's not the _only _place," Mom counteracted. "There's Yale as well---"

"And there's also UC---" Gordo began.

Both parents scoffed in unison.

"There's nothing wrong with UC---" David began to defend his choice, feeling his stomach tying itself in knots.

"Oh, I can see you're rushed, and we really don't have time to talk about this right now," Mom said. "We'll discuss this at greater length later, dear. I just wanted to let you know not to make any plans for the winter break."

"Mom---"

"Really, dear. Look at the time! Shouldn't you be going?"

-

**Eight a.m.**

Lizzie was standing at Gordo's locker, as always, looking gorgeous in a pink sweater. As always. Her hair was shining, her skin was glowing, she squealed when she saw him.

"Gordo!"

"Hey, Lizzie," he said, giving her the obligatory morning kiss. They had been going out for almost a year now, and he knew better than to neglect to kiss Lizzie. He had done it once, and suffered her suspicion and disappointment for nearly a week.

"Hi," she said breathlessly as she took his hand and they began to walk. "Did you have a good run this morning, sweetie?"

"Oh yeah, great," he said.

"Big Meet next weekend," she reminded.

"I know."

"And two weeks after that…you know what…"

"No, what?" came out of his mouth, and he was instantly sorry. What had he been thinking? The Winter Wonderland Dance was the big event of the season, and all Lizzie talked about anymore. By saying "No, what?" Gordo was essentially admitting he didn't really much listen to her anymore. Well, how could he, when all she ever talked bout was this stupid dance?

"Gordo!" Lizzie exclaimed in exasperation.

"I know, I know," he said. "Of course, I know. The dance. And you have that new dress, the blue one, with the bangles---"

"With the _sparkles_," Lizzie correctly.

"Of course. With the sparkles. Around the neckline. See? I know. I listen."

"Well, then, if you do indeed listen, what do you think about what we were talking about last night?"

Gordo cringed. It was a trick question. He smiled at Lizzie and opened his mouth---

"About the limo," she supplied. "Do you want to split a limo with Miranda and Charlie?"

"Oh, the limo…" Gordo remembered. Lizzie sure did love to spend his money. His part-time job at Starbucks didn't pay much, but after Lizzie and his car got through with his paycheck, there was hardly anything left.

"Oh, the limo!" came an excited voice behind him. Gordo spun around and smiled at Miranda, who had snuck up and was smiling back at him.

"Hey, Shaggy," Miranda greeted, as she mussed up his hair. Gordo's hair was now exceptionally long…and shaggy…and Lizzie had been ragging on him for weeks to get it cut. A few days ago Lizzie had complained that when she showed her grandchildren pictures of the Winter Wonderland Dance, she didn't want them asking, "And who is that shaggy sheepdog standing next to you?" Miranda laughed so much when she heard that, and had been calling Gordo "Shaggy" ever since.

Gordo happened to like his hair long…and shaggy…and no matter how much Lizzie ragged on him about cutting it, he had no intention of giving in on this point. Miranda's apparent amusement didn't make matters any better, but on this particular occasion, Lizzie chose to ignore her friend's comment and dove right into the topic of the limo.

"What do you think?" Lizzie asked Miranda. "What does Charlie think? Can we swing it? Wouldn't it be great, showing up at the Dance in a long, white limo…"

"I'll, uh…have to talk to him about it," Miranda said.

"That's what you said yesterday!" Lizzie pouted. "Don't forget! Talk to him today! If you don't," she threatened, "I'll have to call him myself."

"Be my guest," Miranda said. "But if you call my boyfriend, then I get to call your boyfriend," she teased, taking Gordo's arm in hers as they began to walk.

Not to be outdone, Lizzie took his other arm, and the three walked down the hall, forcing other students out of the way as they passed. Gordo felt warm and fuzzy inside. This was the first really good feeling he'd had all day. Being here like this with Lizzie and Miranda reminded him of the way they used to be, back in middle school, back when everything was simple, and made a lot more sense than it did now.

Lizzie kept going on and on about the Dance, but for once Gordo did not let it bother him. And then things got even better when Miranda leaned into him and whispered, "Olsen Twins…"

Gordo grinned, almost laughed. "When?" he asked.

"Eight o'clock tonight. Channel 25. _Holiday in the Sun."_

Now Gordo did laugh. That was one of his favorites. Of all his friends, only Miranda understood this Guilty Pleasure. In fact, she shared it, though for an entirely different reasons. As Miranda had once explained to him, "On some strange level, I want to _be_ the Olsen Twins, and on some not so strange level, you want to _do things_ to the Olsen Twins."

On some not so strange level, Miranda understood him oh so well.

But Lizzie jumped right in now exclaiming, "No, no! No movies tonight! Tonight is the beach party! Or have you both forgotten?"

Both Gordo and Miranda sighed at the same time. "Oh, yeah. The beach party."

The bell rang. "Eight thirty!" Lizzie called to Miranda as she grabbed Gordo's hand, dragging him into class. "Gordo and I will pick Charlie up first, then you! Don't be late!"

-

**Ten a.m.**

Gordo was taking notes in history class, but he felt his attention begin to wander. In the margin he found he had scribbled the likeness of a girl. She had long hair and big eyes, with long, curling eyelashes. He laughed quietly to himself. This must be one of the Olsen Twins, he surmised. He tried to concentrate on what the teacher was saying, but the Civil War was so boring, he'd heard it all before.

He felt he could barely stay awake. He really needed to get more sleep. Last night he had stayed up till well after midnight, first talking with Lizzie on the phone, and later completing a homework assignment. Now he felt himself dozing.

After a moment, his head popped up and he realized some time had passed. He looked at his scribbling of the girl in the margin. Her eyes were still large, smiling, but… he must have put his pen to the drawing without realizing it, because now her hair was dark. Sure, one of the Olsen Twins was now coloring her hair a darker shade, but this was surely no longer one of the Twins. But if not an Olsen…then who?

He was staring at his drawing, wondering if his subconscious was going to begin to betray him. What if Lizzie should see this? He ought to scribble it out. He ought to…but somehow, he could not. He debated within himself, and as he did, as if from a distance, he heard his name being called.

"David Gordon?"

He looked up at the teacher. An Office Aide had come into the room.

"David Gordon," the teacher repeated, making an "Up!" motion with his hands.

A few other students droned in mock disapproval. Ethan Craft sat up straight and said, "Gor-don! Off to see the Prin-ci-pal!"

"Not the Principal," the Office Aide said. "Guidance."

"Guidance!" Ethan repeated. "I'd say you could use some Guidance, Gor-don!"

Gordo gathered up his books and left the classroom, the gentle sound of laughter following him into the hallway.

Ethan joked, because he knew the last thing that was likely to happen to good boy David Gordo was a request to visit the Principal's office. The fact that Guidance was calling for him could mean only one thing, and Gordo sighed as he trudged down the hall. He made his way to Mr. Simon's office and stood in the doorway.

"Hello, Mr. Simon," he said politely. "You wanted to see me?"

"David! Yes! Come in! Sit down!"

Gordo sat down, hoping to make this as brief as possible.

"So," Mr. Simon said, when Gordo was comfortably situated. "How's everything going for you, David?"

"Oh, fine, Mr. Simon. Really great."

Mr. Simon flipped through some papers on his desk. "I see you aced the SAT," he commented.

Gordo smirked, remembering this morning's conversation with his father. "It depends on what you mean by 'aced.'"

"You're doing fine, son," Mr. Simon smiled. "And I see you've secured the National Honor Society Scholarship, as well as first prize for Best Young Filmmaker's Award last year, congratulations."

"Thank you."

"And of course there's your standard Cal State Scholarship---"

"But only if I go to a Cal State University."

"And of course you're not limited to that---"

"But I want to," Gordo said.

"And a bright kid like you should be able to pursue any course of future education he so desires," Mr. Simon said. "And funds should not be a consideration."

"Oh, funds are not a consideration," Gordo assured. "That's not the problem."

Mr. Simon gave him a quizzical look. "But there is a problem?" he wondered.

Gordo did not want to get into this. If Mr. Simon should speak to his parents, that would only make matters worse. So he said now, trying not to sound too abrupt, "What is it you wanted to see me about, Mr. Simon?"

"Oh, yes!" Mr. Simon said, getting back on track. "Just in this morning I received the Coca Cola Scholarship information packet, with a top award, to a top student, of $10,000, towards the college of your choice. A Scholarship like that could be a real feather in your cap. And the money could go a long, long way."

Gordo smiled politely at Mr. Simon. "Funds are not a consideration," he repeated.

"Oh, I know!" Mr. Simon agreed. "But could you imagine….an extra $10,000…?"

Gordo sighed. He knew what this was about. If a student from Hillridge High should win such a huge scholarship award, it would be a real feather in the cap not only for that student, but also for Hillridge High. What good publicity for the school system! Mr. Simon's interest in seeing Gordo go for this scholarship was not purely altruistic.

Gordo knew that, as with his parents, there was no sense in arguing. "What do I have to do?" he asked resignedly.

Mr. Simon handed him a packet of papers. "It's all in here, David. Your standard application, thousand word essay, the school will provide the transcripts, of course, and I'll speak to your teachers for Letters of Recommendation. The deadline is January 5, so I'm sure you'll have no problem completing this over the Winter Break."

Gordo nodded, feeling numb. He felt his Winter Break slipping away. He felt his life slipping away. He stared blankly ahead for a few moments, and when he refocused, he noticed Mr. Simon giving him an odd look.

"David," Mr. Simon said carefully. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh, sure," Gordo said.

"You're not feeling…maybe….a little burned out?"

"Me?" Gordo asked.

"I've seen it before, David. Over-achiever, pressured from all sides---"

Gordo p-shawed. "Not me. I'm fine, Mr. Simon. Really."

"You're sure? Because if you ever needed any help---"

"I'm fine," David repeated, beginning to feel irritated by Mr. Simon's insistent concern.

"Just remember, David. We're here for you, anything you need. We just want what's best for you."

Gordo nodded. "What's best for me…" he repeated absently, wishing with all his heart that he had the even the first clue exactly what that was.

-

_More to come! Trouble with Lizzie, a fight with his best friend! Poor Gordo! Stay Tuned!_


	2. Noon

_Wow! Thanks to everyone on the great reviews. Especially thanks to new readers/reviewers! Glad you are enjoying the Olsen Twins. I thought that was pretty funny, actually. To green aura: YES! I do make Gordo suffer, don't I? I'm so mean to him! Not really. It will all come out alright in the end. _

_Before you read any further…if you are a big fan of the LG ship, you might not like the direction this story is going. I only mention it because I don't want to get any flames about how Gordo and Lizzie would never act like this towards each other. In this story, they do. Remember, I'm trying to be angsty here, and you can't have angst if the existing ship is all peachy._

_**-**_

**- **

**12:00 Noon**

Now it was noon, and that meant Gordo was having lunch with Lizzie in the courtyard. Sometimes Miranda and Charlie joined them, but today they were alone, and Lizzie seemed to prefer it that way. She had a lot to talk about, most of it about the Dance, and Gordo tried as hard as he could to pay attention, but he wasn't one hundred per cent focused until he heard her say, "And I think it would be a good idea to get a room."

Now he looked at her, and he knew that before they went any further he had to be absolutely certain he understood what she was talking about. "You want us to get a room?" he repeated. "You mean at the hotel? The night of the dance?"

"Of course at the hotel!" Lizzie said. "Where else, silly? It will be fun, don't you think?"

Gordo swallowed hard, knowing where this was going, yet not wanting to go there, especially not now while he was eating. This morning his parents had managed to ruin his bowl of cocoa puffs, and Lizzie was about to make a churning mess of his ham and cheese sandwich.

"I wonder how much it would cost," Lizzie said idly.

"Are we splitting this with Charlie and Miranda?" Gordo asked, curbing an edge of sarcasm in his voice.

"Gordo!" she scolded. "What _are_ you thinking?"

"I'm thinking of how expensive this dance is turning out to be."

Lizzie sighed and said quietly, "Gordo, you shouldn't be thinking of the expense. Though, hmmm….it would be a lot cheaper if we split it, wouldn't it? But, really! You should only be thinking about the fun. Not only the fun we're going to have in the limo and at the Dance, but also the fun we can have…._later_….in our very own room."

Gordo took another bite of his sandwich, knowing that if his mouth was full of food, he could avoid responding for at least a few moments as he tried to think of a tactful way to inform her that he did not want to get a room. He did not want to pay for it, but that was the least of his concerns. Most of all, he did not want a repeat of what had happened last time.

Gordo sighed through his sandwich, trying not to be annoyed with Lizzie. He understood that she liked him and wanted to be with him. He used to want to be with her too. But things had changed recently. And it had nothing to do with that other girl. But it had everything to do with the one and only time he and Lizzie had actually had sex.

It happened about six weeks ago. After months and months of talking and agonizing about it, they finally made the decision to do it. It seemed like the right decision at the time, but almost immediately afterwards, Gordo knew it had changed everything between them, and not for the better, as he had hoped.

It was the first time for both of them, and it felt awkward, and apparently a bit painful for Lizzie, though she kept assuring him that she was okay. Of course they had been smart enough to use a condom, but being inexperienced, there was a slight mishap upon withdrawal.

Lizzie was not as traumatized by the mishap as Gordo had been, until a week later, when her period did not appear in its usually timely fashion. Then they worried together, and at one point Lizzie angrily lashed out at Gordo for being so stupid. Nobody had ever called him stupid before. He knew she was upset, but so was he. She could have been a little more understanding.

Three days later Lizzie took a pregnancy test, and the results were negative, but Gordo was not completely convinced until her period finally, miraculously appeared, ten days after its appointed time. Altogether those were thirteen days that scared the crap out of Gordo, and he swore that he never wanted to go through an experience like that again.

Above and beyond all that, though, things had changed between them. Gordo could never forget the way Lizzie had called him stupid, nor could he forget how stupid he had felt for ever letting the "mishap" happen in the first place. Maybe he wasn't as ready for sex as he thought he was. Maybe he was still too much of a dumb kid. And maybe he didn't actually love Lizzie as much as he thought he did. He felt young, dumb and confused.

Now as he recalled all this, his stomach churning, Lizzie locked her arm in his and whispered in his ear, "We don't have to use a…a---one of those things again. I have a plan, I have something better."

"You do?" Gordo squeaked out.

"Yes, I do. I can go on the pill. And the best part is that there's no chance my parents are going to find out. Do you know Mindy in my third period? Her older sister is on the pill, but she just broke up with her boyfriend, so she's not going to need her prescription for a while. She offered Mindy her pills. Mindy doesn't need them, but I had talked to her about you and me, so she said she would get her sister's pills for me if I want them."

"You talked to Mindy about us?" Gordo asked in alarm. "About what happened?"

"We're _friends_," Lizzie explained. "That's what friends do. We talk to each other."

"You talked about _me_? Lizzie, you had no right to talk about me. That's personal stuff."

"Oh, Gordo. Don't worry about Mindy. She's not going to tell anyone."

Gordo's alarm increased. He hadn't even gotten as far as thinking that Mindy might pass the story on to other people. If that happened---

"Oh, Lizzie…" Gordo said, dropping his head in to his hands.

"Gordo…" she comforted, drawing closer to him. "Listen---"

Gordo shook her off. "No, Lizzie, you listen to me," he said strongly. "What happens between us is personal. You don't go blabbing it to all your friends."

"Oh, all right," Lizzie agreed. "Maybe I shouldn't have said anything to Mindy. She's not _that_ good of a friend. But Heather, and Miranda---"

"Especially not Miranda!" Gordo exclaimed, immediately regretting his outburst. He covered it up with the addition of, "And especially not Heather!"

"Why not?" Lizzie wondered.

"Neither of those girls are capable of observing the 'Cone of Silence.'" Gordo explained, glad to have a reason so quickly come to mind. "If they should tell their boyfriends, before you know it, everyone in the school will know---"

"Oh, Gordo," Lizzie scolded. "Mark is not going to blab your personal problems to everybody in the school. Neither is Charlie. You should know that."

"Listen, Lizzie," Gordo repeated. "I'm asking you. I'm begging you. Please. Please do not talk to anybody about this stuff."

"Okay," Lizzie said quietly, leaning against him, clutching his arm. "I'm sorry," she added in a small, baby voice. "I didn't mean to upset you, sweetie."

Gordo put his had on her arm, squeezing it. His stomach was now officially upset, and he almost felt like he was going to cry. It suddenly occurred to him that he and Lizzie would probably be breaking up sooner rather than later. He felt bad, because she really was not a bad person, she didn't purposely do mean or stupid things. Maybe he was too damn sensitive. All he knew was that their time together had passed.

"So…" Lizzie said hopefully. "About the room…"

Gordo closed his eyes. "I don't want you taking someone else's medication, Lizzie. You're not supposed to do that. I don't want you to get in trouble."

"It's not a big deal," Lizzie said. "It's practically over- the- counter. Anybody can take them."

"Lizzie, it's not right, and you know it."

"But I don't want to wait any longer," Lizzie pouted, holding him tighter. "I want to be with you again, sweetie. This time will be better, I promise. And the Dance would be the perfect opportunity."

They heard the bell ringing from across the courtyard. "Out of time," Gordo said, but what he was secretly thinking was _Saved by the bell!_ "We'll talk about this later, Liz, okay?"

-

**3:30 p.m.**

Again, Gordo found himself running. Around and around the track, getting nowhere. Afternoon practices were always worse than his morning run, because the sun was merciless at this time of day. Sweat ran down his face, into his eyes. His legs ached, his stomach churned. Damn! There had to be a better way to keep the parental units off his back!

Since it was Friday, Coach called the practice off early, knowing most of his runners were looking forward to starting their weekend as soon as possible. Coach was an understanding kind of guy, and Gordo appreciated at least that much.

"Stop!" Coach called, waving his hands, calling them in from the track. "Hey, guys! Enough for today! Stop, everybody! Just stop!"

Gordo slowed to a trot and his best friend Charles Clooney was soon beside him. "Hey, Gordon," Charlie said, slapping his on the back. "Whassup?"

"Not much," Gordo breathed. "What's going on with you?"

"Not much," Charlie said. "Big beach thing tonight, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"I thought you worked Fridays."

"Oh, shit!" Gordo exclaimed. "I switched with Jimmy. I forgot to call him, to remind him to go in for me tonight. Remind me later, okay?"

"Remind you to remind Jimmy," Charlie nodded. "Sure."

They walked in towards the gymnasium, catching their breaths.

"So," Charlie said at last. "You think Coach is gonna give us the standard weekend speech? Safe sex, designated driver, recreational drugs in moderate amounts…"

Gordo laughed. "Probably."

They walked a little more, then Charlie suddenly said, "Speaking of safe sex, Gordon, there's something I've been wanting to ask you."

Gordo let out a deep breath and said, "No, Clooney, I don't swing both ways."

"You know Wednesdays are Amateur Night down at the Comedy Club," Charlie replied, never missing a beat. "You ought to try out."

"I'll do that, Clooney. But why are you talking about safe sex?"

"Oh. Yeah, here's the thing. I've been wondering if you and Lizzie would like to split the cost of a room with me and Miranda the night of the dance."

Gordo almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Why the hell would you ask something like that?" he asked.

"Because the rooms are so damn expensive, dude. And I heard Lizzie had a similar idea. God! I don't mean we should all use the room _at the same time_. Is that what you thought, you sick bastard? I mean we could take turns. You and Lizzie first, me and Miranda next. "

"And Miranda is in agreement with this plan?" Gordo wondered, feeling strange.

"Well, not exactly. Not yet, anyway. I'm still working on her, you know, but I think she's starting to weaken. And if we had the room, if it was right there, and we were having a good time and all, maybe a few drinks…"

Gordo shook his head in disgust. "Man, you are such a pig."

"Not really, " Charlie said. "She wants it. I can tell. She's just playing coy with me. But it's going to happen."

"You should leave her the hell alone," Gordo shot back. "Miranda's a nice girl, a good girl. She deserves better than to be pressured into sex by some jerk---"

"Gordon! Chill, dude! Did you just call me a jerk?"

"I've known Miranda a lot longer than I've known you, Clooney. She's my friend, she's like a sister. And I'm not going to let some _jerk_ pressure my sister into---"

Charlie reached out and grabbed Gordo's shoulder. "Dude!" he repeated.

Gordo threw him off, aggrevated and disgusted beyond reason. "Don't mess with Miranda," he warned.

Charlie gave him a strange look. "Gordon, you are so out of line. Where the hell do you get off---?"

"Shut up, Clooney," Gordo warned. "Shut up and get off my back. And get off Miranda's back, while you're at it, too. You got it? _Dude_?"

Gordo stalked off, feeling Charlie's angry presence behind his back. Neither of them were the type to come to blows, but as he walked away, Gordo felt he wouldn't have been at all surprised to feel Charlie attacking him from behind.

Gordo had spent too many years with only Lizzie and Miranda as best friends. He didn't always know how guys were supposed to act with each other. As smart as he was, he sometimes felt like a social retard. Had he overreacted? Was Charlie right to say he was out of line? He didn't know. All he knew was that he couldn't bear the idea of Miranda under that kind of pressure. Hell, he couldn't bear the thought of Miranda having sex with anyone.

_Unless….unless…_

How could Charlie be such a jerk? Or was _he_ the jerk for not acting like a typical guy, not jumping right on board with the idea, saying, "Oh yeah, that chick digs you, man, she wants it! Go for it, dude!"

But guys didn't let other guys mess around with their sisters. That much he knew. And Miranda was like a sister to him….wasn't she? Well, she was…but she wasn't exactly. Was she? It hadn't actually been _brotherly_ concern that had set Gordo off like that.

He was still trying to deal with what was happening to him lately, as far as Miranda was concerned, and this incident had been exceptionally difficult, exceptionally revealing. He wasn't sure he was completely ready for what was being revealed.

Gordo got into the locker room and changed. He saw Charlie on the other side of the room, but when the time came for everyone to sit down for the Coach's weekend pep talk, he and Charlie stayed on opposite sides of the room. Afterwards, though, as everybody was clearing out, Gordo gathered his things and headed out towards his car, only to find Charlie was waiting for him outside the door.

"Look, Gordon," he said. "I'm sorry."

Gordo sighed. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone off on you like that. What happens with you and Miranda is your business. And besides, I know Randa. She can hold her own pretty good. She can be obstinate. She's not going to let you talk her into anything she's not ready for."

Charlie smiled. "You think so?"

"Oh, I know so," Gordo said. "Miranda doesn't need me to fight her battles for her. She can fight them just fine herself."

Charlie nodded. "All right then, Gordon. Whatever you say. As long as we understand each other. Right?"

Gordo nodded in agreement. He felt he understood Charlie. He even felt he understood Miranda. He just wasn't sure he really understood himself and all he was going through at this moment.

-

**5:00 p.m.**

The house was empty. The house was almost always empty these days. Gordo was always at some school activity, or out with Lizzie, and his mom and dad had recently started going out on "dates" quite a bit, no doubt preparing for the day when he would be permanently out of their hair, shipped off to an East Coast Ivy League college.

It was nice that his parents' relationship was blossoming again after all these years, Gordo supposed, but somehow that meant he was always getting the short end of the stick.

He couldn't remember the last time Mom had cooked a family dinner. Tonight, there was a twenty dollar bill on the table, with a note in his mother's delicate hand, "Get pizza!" Underneath this, in his father's hand, angular block letters, was the scribbled SAT website address, along with his credit card number and expiration date, with the one word command, "Register!"

Gordo sighed, put the twenty in his pocket, left the note on the table. He plopped down on the sofa, in front of the TV, and reached for the remote. Finally able to lean back, after this long day, he suddenly felt exhausted. It seemed he had spent half the day running, and the other half of the day fighting with all those people who were closest to him. Not much had gone right today, had it?

As he flipped through the channels, he found a 1960's musical that apparently was called "Stop the World, I Want to Get Off!" The movie itself looked pretty bad, but the title intrigued him. Of course in the 1960's, the phrase "get off" did not have the double meaning it did today…or did it? At any rate, Gordo found himself more focused on the first part of the title: Stop the World.

Man…he thought. Stop the World….

Wouldn't it be nice to just stop the world? He didn't even care if he got off, or if he _got off_. It would so great to just stop…even for a moment….

He sighed heavily, feeling so tired. It wasn't right that a kid his age should feel so tired. Maybe he needed a nap. He really hadn't had enough sleep last night, and now tonight promised to be another late one, at the beach first, and later probably at Denny's, eating breakfast with the whole gang at two or three in the morning. He ought to get a little sleep now.

Gordo pointed the remote at the TV, pressing the Mute button. As he did, a commercial came on for a movie that would be shown later tonight. Holiday in the Sun, starring the Olsen Twins. Gordo grinned, almost laughed. He closed his eyes, thinking of the Olsen Twins, thinking of Miranda, and in only a few moments, he was dead asleep on the sofa.


	3. Night

_To answer Brie's question about birth control, the pill becomes effective seven days after you start taking it, and in Chapter 1 it's established that the Big Dance is three weeks away, so no problem there. Of course you should NEVER take anyone else's prescription for birth control pills or anything else. Don't try this at home!_

_By the way, Brie, I especially love your new word: Gordoness. And I hope everyone is enjoying the Gordoness in this story!_

_-_

-

**8:23 p.m.**

Mary Kate was calling Gordo on his cell phone. Or was it Ashley? Which one had dyed her hair a darker color? But she hadn't dyed her hair _that_ dark, had she? Was it really an Olsen Twin calling him on the phone? Or maybe it was another dark-haired girl…

No. It wasn't a dark-haired girl. It was a blonde. And it wasn't a dream. It was Lizzie, ringing his house phone, and the moment he rose up out of his dream and groggily picked up the receiver he could hear her frantically exclaiming, "Gordo! Gordo! What the hell are you doing still home? You should _be_ here by now! We told Miranda we'd pick her up at 8:30 and we still have to get Charlie first! Gordo, what are you _doing?"_

Gordo took a deep breath, his mind trying to catch up. "Lizzie…?"

"Get in your car and get over here!" Lizzie exclaimed. "I don't want to be the first one at the beach, but I certainly don't want to be the last one, either!"

Gordo sighed. "Okay," was all he said.

Five minutes later, in a fresh tee shirt and jeans, Gordo was in his driveway, slipping into the front seat of his Pontiac GTO.

Well, technically, it was not his GTO. It was Dad's old car, but as long as Gordo agreed to keep up the maintenance and the insurance, it was as good as his. Maintenance was not a problem, but the insurance was killing him! Even with his "Good Student Discount" most of Gordo's Starbucks' paycheck went towards car insurance.

He loved the car, and the independence it afforded him. Though Lizzie probably loved it more. And why shouldn't she? She got to drive all around town in this really cool car and never had to worry about the expense, or the responsibility of always being the "Designated Driver." Not that Gordo minded being the Designated Driver.

As he pulled up in front of Lizzie's house now, and saw her running to meet him at the curb, he felt his stomach tighten, dreading the all too familiar "Designated Driver" argument. Lizzie got in the car and Gordo thought, _Here we go again…_

"Hey!" Lizzie said. "Where were you?"

"I fell asleep," Gordo said simply.

"A little nap? Good! Then you should feel wide awake and ready for tonight."

"I'm ready," Gordo said, already feeling the conversation begin to take a turn.

"Great!" Lizzie agreed. "Then you'll be in the spirit?"

Gordo sighed. "In the spirit for what?"

"You know…In the spirit…for spirits…"

"If you're asking if I intend to get drunk with you, Lizzie, once again the answer is no."

Now Lizzie sighed. "Gordo! I'm not asking you to get drunk. I'm just asking you to have a drink. Or two. You could have a couple of beers and not get drunk. And by the time we leave, you should be okay to drive. I don't want to hear that "Designated Driver' speech from you again."

"Lizzie! Why is it so important to you that I drink?"

"Sweetie," she said, "it's just that I want to see you enjoy yourself. You know, sometimes you're a little uptight. So much…tension. A drink or two would do you good."

Gordo shrugged.

"And besides…" Lizzie added carefully. "I think it would also do you good with the other guys…"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means I've hears some talk. Some of the guys think you're…you're…"

"I'm _what?"_ Gordo asked

"They think you're stuck up," Lizzie spit out. "Because you won't drink with them. They think that you must think you're better than them."

Gordo shook his head with a sarcastic sigh. "Oh yeah," he said. "That's it exactly."

"Gordo!" Lizzie exclaimed. "I don't think you realize how you come off to people sometimes!"

Gordo felt himself getting drawn into the same argument once again. This was getting old. He bit his lip, determined not to take the bait.

"Listen," Lizzie said gently, after a moment. "I understand about your Uncle Bobby. About the accident. I can appreciate all that completely. But just because it happened to him doesn't mean it's going to happen to you too. Gordo. You can't stop living just because…because of something that happened…."

"I haven't stopped living. I've just made a conscious decision not to drink. And what is so wrong with that?"

"Nothing! But…but…"

All at once, Gordo felt himself aggrevated beyond anything he had yet felt. "Look, Lizzie. This is it. This is me, this is the way I am. I make up my own mind, I do what I want to do. You've always known that about me, since we were kids. If you don't like it anymore, nobody says you have to stick around. We're not married, you know. "

"Gordo!" Lizzie cried. "What are you saying?"

Gordo took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I'm saying…I'm saying, _Get off my back, Lizzie! _I've had just about as much as I can stand. I feel like I'm ready to crack, and on top of all my own problems, I don't need to deal with any shit from you!"

Lizzie glared at him, then huffed, then sat back with her arms crossed over her chest. Gordo drove, his hands clenched on the steering wheel, looking straight ahead at the road.

They had been through this kind of thing so many times in the last few months that at this point Gordo did not even care what Lizzie was thinking. In fact, he acutely felt how much he did not care about Lizzie at all in this moment, and that made him feel awful. He was not a good boyfriend. Not anymore. He needed to let her go. For both their sakes.

"Lizzie…" he began quietly.

"No, no, no," Lizzie said. "Not now. Not tonight."

"But you don't even know what I'm going to say!"

"I don't care what you're going to say, Gordo! Whatever it is, it's going to have to wait, because tonight is a party, and I intend to party, and I don't want to think about anything serious or talk about anything serious. I just want to have fun, okay? Can you deal with that, Gordo? Even if you don't want to have fun, I do! So get off _my_ back, okay?"

Gordo blew out a deep breath. They drove in silence, and in his mind, he ran over the conversation in his mind. He felt awful about Lizzie, but more than that, he felt awful about himself. He wasn't who he used to be. Just now he had said, "I make up my own mind, I do what I want to do." Well, once upon a time that might have been true, that was the image he still had of himself, but was it in fact an accurate description of the young man he had turned out to be? Lately, he didn't actually do a whole lot of what he wanted to do. He realized that he spent the greater part of his days doing what everybody else wanted him to do. He barely even knew his own mind anymore.

_Crap! _He hated who he had become.

-

**8:47 p.m.**

And now they were pulling up in front of Charlie's house. Lizzie looked at Gordo sharply and said, "This conversation stops here. Oh, look! Charlie's coming, and Miranda's with him! We may not be too late after all!"

Charlie and Miranda ran down to the car and jumped into the back seat. Miranda reached into the front seat to muss up Gordo's hair with a special greeting of "Hey, Shaggy!" When greetings were exchanged all around, Charlie pat Gordo on the back and said, "Dude! I'm reminding you to remind Jimmy to go into work for you."

"Hey, thanks, but I already did. The shift's already half over."

"Hey, I tried."

"That's right!" Miranda exclaimed, leaning forward into the front seat. "We usually never see you on Friday, Gordo! Work, work, work!"

"Well…yeah," Gordo admitted. "It's good to have some time off."

"To go out and have some fun," Lizzie added, meaningfully.

"So how is the old job, anyway?" Miranda wondered.

"It's all right," Gordo said. He really didn't want to talk about it, but Miranda kept asking specific questions, and he didn't want to disappoint her. The more he talked, the more he realized he sounded like he was complaining, but he couldn't stop himself. There were so many issues about his job: who was slacking, who was stealing from the register, who was sleeping with the boss.

"What a soap opera!" Miranda exclaimed. "How do you stand it?"

"It sounds like a royal pain in the ass," Charlie commented. "You should quit."

"Yeah, right," Gordo scoffed.

"No, really," Lizzie agreed. "You should quit, Gordo. Then I would get to see you a whole lot more, sweetie."

Gordo scoffed again. "You'd get to see me, but we wouldn't be able to do a whole lot. No job equals no car, _sweetie_, and no car equals no beach party tonight. It also equals no movies, no mall, no anything else. Unless one of you would want to take a turn at car ownership and volunteer to pick up the slack."

Now Gordo was certain he was complaining, and the fact that everybody suddenly got extremely quiet made him feel terrible. He didn't mean for his words to come out like that, so harsh, so accusing. He tried to think of a way to soften what he had just said, but Miranda beat him to it, by softly suggesting, "Well, then, Gordo, I guess we would just have to stay home all the time and watch Olsen Twins movies."

Gordo was surprised to actually find himself laughing. He hadn't felt good since he got into the car, but Miranda had a way of actually being able to make him laugh, even when he felt his worst.

But Lizzie and Charlie both said, at the same time, "No way!"

"Yes, way!" Miranda insisted, and launched into a defense of her Guilty Pleasure, thus, gratefully, taking the pressure off Gordo.

If only momentarily.

-

**10:00 p.m.**

A huge bonfire lit up a circle of teenagers, almost all of them holding red plastic cups filled with beer that was secretly being dispensed from the back of Todd Kaplan's van. Todd's twenty one year old brother Kip had bought several cases of beer with five dollar bills collected from all those present.

Gordo threw in his money, even though he had no intention of drinking. Most of all, he was anxious to avoid any further confrontation with Lizzie on this drinking issue. He was now one of the teenagers standing around the bonfire with a red plastic cup.

Every now and then he turned away from the group and swished a little beer around in his mouth, then spit it out on the ground when he thought nobody was looking. He also "accidentally" spilled some beer on his tee shirt, so he would be sure to smell "acceptable" to anyone who might get close to him.

Lizzie hung on him, fully convinced that he had taken her advice. "See?" she whispered in his ear. "It's not so bad, is it?"

"Not so bad," he agreed, thinking _What's wrong with this picture?_

The later it got, the more he kept thinking, _What's wrong with this picture?_ This happened to him every time he went to one of Lizzie's parties. As possibly the only sober person present, Gordo enjoyed a unique perspective. Though "enjoyed" might not be the best word to describe it. As the night wore on, and the crowd got rowdier, Gordo felt himself withdrawing, growing increasingly quiet.

Lizzie, however, as she got more and more drunk, did not seem to notice or care how Gordo was feeling or acting. She was all over him, hanging on him, kissing him, touching him, begging him to take her to Make Out Cove on the other side of the rocks, where all the couples were disappearing.

Gordo gently pried Lizzie off him, saying he had to go to the bathroom. He set her down on the sand with Heather and Mark, and walked away, once again able to breath again.

The nearby bathroom building was intensely bright, dirty and smelly. Gordo wished he was the kind of guy who wouldn't mind pissing in the bushes. If he was, he wouldn't have to listen to Phil Tucker in the third stall, barfing his brains out. Pissing in the bushes would certainly be a lot less unpleasant than this.

-

**11:30 p.m.**

When he got back out on the sand, he walked around for a while, his hands in his pockets. He did the best he could to avoid running into Lizzie, and soon found himself closer to Make Out Cove than he ever intended to get. With a tight feeling in his chest, he noticed that one of the couples heading towards the privacy on the other side of the rocks was Charlie and Miranda. He hung back a little, watching them.

Charlie appeared intent on moving forward, but Miranda slowed him down. They stopped and kissed. Gordo stepped into the shadows, feeling his heart beating fast. He couldn't help but remember his conversation with Charlie this afternoon, and he wondered with trepidation if his friend had moved up his plans for Miranda to this very night.

Gordo was suddenly glad he had remained sober. He did indeed trust Miranda's ability to take care of herself, but if she was even half as wasted as Lizzie, her sense of reason might be too impaired to make a good decision. The decision Gordo had to make now was exactly what he should do if Charlie tried anything. He knew this was none of his business, but he also knew he couldn't stand by and let Miranda be taken advantage of.

For a few extremely intense moments, Gordo stared at the two of them in each other's arms, kissing. Then he saw Charlie's hands begin to travel all over Miranda's body, and Gordo held his breath, wondering how far this would go. The suspense was unbearable.

Gordo watched Miranda closely, looking for her next move. Would she touch him back, encourage him…or push him away? Were they going to continue to the other side of the rocks? Gordo felt he was about to explode.

As bad as this day had been, it now stood still. _Oh, man…Miranda…_

And then, at last, Gordo felt himself breath again. Miranda's hand slowly came up over Charlie's, grabbed his wrist…and pulled it down. Charlie's hand came up again, and Miranda pulled it down again. This went on several times, and each time Miranda's response was more intensely than the last. Finally Miranda pulled fully away, but Charlie pulled her back. She pushed off his chest, and he pulled her back.

"Charlie…"

"Oh, come on…Miranda…"

"No….I told you before. No."

"Miranda…."

"That's it!" Miranda exclaimed, pushing him against the rocks and stalking off.

Gordo breathed out a mighty sigh of relief as Miranda passed in front of him. She did not see him, and disappeared into the night. Charlie took off in the opposite direction, muttering a few expletives.

Gordo leaned back and smiled. Good old Miranda. His trust in her had not been in vain. As bad as this day had been, he felt something had finally gone right.

And in the very next moment, the unraveling began.


	4. Darkest Hour Before the Dawn

_Haha! Many thanks to Whispered Lullabyes for bringing up the point about Gordo not being football player material. I see those stories and they always make me laugh also! _

_What makes me laugh even more, if you're ever looking on the M side of LM FF, you may see a couple of references to…uh…shall we say…how many inches Gordo might be blessed with. In which case he shouldn't be directing movies, he should be IN them, and I don't mean your standard feature films playing down at the local theatre. Sorry if I'm being crude, but my point is that I prefer to work in a FF world that is relatively cannon and within the realms of probability._

_BTW, this is the penultimate chapter---meaning, for those of you who are not keeping up with the latest in the Series of Unfortunate Events---that this is the next to the last chapter. I wind everything up in Chapter 5, which will happily be called "A New Day." Sorry, cka3ka, I just couldn't make it too dark!_

_But, as a matter of fact, I am working on something else that may be a bit darker than this. Working title is Teenager, inspired by the Better Than Ezra song of the same name, and it follows a Goth Ethan Craft and his best friend Veruca as they go to a concert and later have a run-in with some old friends. I'm pretty sure it's an original. If anyone is aware of any existing FF where Ethan and Veruca are Goths, please let me know!_

_ One more note before I begin. Once again, Florida is being threatened by a hurricane, which we should begin feeling within the next 24 hours. I'm hoping for a repeat of the last several performances: a day off, stuck in the house, with electricity, writing, while only a few branches are pulled off the trees outside. From my keyboard to God's ears! Even if I do not post another chapter in the next few days, I will at least update my LJ to say I am okay, for those who might be wondering,_

_And now, to continue the story, just outside Make Out Cove..._

_-_

_- _

**11:50 p.m.**

Gordo stood alone in the shadows for only a moment before he was spotted by a very drunk Ethan Craft.

"Gor---don!" Ethan called, slapping him on the back. "Wassup, dude?"

"Hey, Ethan," Gordo said unenthusiastically. "What's up? Frank," he added, nodding to Ethan's friend, a beefy boy he didn't particularly like.

"Gordon," Frank acknowledged, punching him in the arm. "You're alright, bro. Everything cool, huh?"

Gordo forced a smile. "Yeah. Everything's peachy."

"Another beer?" Frank asked, and Gordo instantly understood that the reason he was suddenly "alright" in Frank's eyes was because he had been deceived by Gordo's beer drinking act.

Before Gordo could answer in regards to the beer, Ethan interjected, "No time for that, dude! Lizzie's been looking for you. She's walking all over the place asking everyone 'Have you seen Gordo? Oh where, oh where can my Gordo be?'" Here Ethan stopped and laughed at his own falsetto rendition of Lizzie.

Then he said, "Why aren't you with Lizzie, dude? That McGuire, she's on fire!" Now Ethan stopped and laughed at his own joke. "Why do you keep a fine lady like that waiting?"

"I was just getting ready to hook up with Lizzie," Gordo said, seeing his opportunity to get out of this conversation.

"No, hold on," Ethan said, reaching out a hand to halt Gordo's escape. "Don't run off, Gor-don. I've got a primo location all lined up for you and Lizzie, but you've got to lay claim. Come around here with me and I'll get you all set up."

Ethan put his arm around Gordo's shoulder and began to walk him around to the other side of the rocks. "What are you talking about, Craft?" Gordo wondered.

"I'm talking about a room. With a view. And the upmost in privacy. Very nice, top of the line. Smithers and his little Suzy should be just about ready to vacate. I can get you in, but we got to move fast. This spot won't last long. Get Lizzie on her cell and call her over."

Hearing the mention of Smithers and Suzy, and seeing the direction they were headed, Gordo at last understood exactly what Ethan was talking about. "I---I---I—" he began.

"Come on, Gor-don. Don't be shy. I'm telling you, this place is private."

"I don't think privacy is the issue for Gordon," Frank suddenly contributed, walking just behind them. "I hear Gordon's got different issues."

Now they were around the rocks, and the light from the bonfire no longer illuminated. In a moment Gordo's eyes could almost see couples here, there and everywhere, in varying stages of undress, in various stages of making out. He could decipher their moans. Again, he felt his stomach churning.

"I heard something about you, Gordon," Frank went on.

"Oh yeah?" Ethan wondered. "What did you hear about my man Gor-don?"

Gordo knew what was coming, but before he could think of a way to stop it, Frank laughed loudly and said, "I heard your man Gordon here has been known to lose his raincoat in a storm."

Gordo cringed. He wouldn't have put it quite so poetically, but there was no doubt now that the story had gotten around.

Ethan joined Frank in loud laughter. "Ha ha! Yeah! I heard that too."

"Where did you hear crap like that?" Gordo demanded.

"I don't know. Round about. Everybody's talking."

If ever there was a moment when Gordo wished he was anywhere but here, this was it. Once again, not knowing how to deal with guys, he considered all his options, everything from joining the laughter to beating the shit out of both Ethan and Frank. Neither extreme seemed possible, and everything in the middle was equally unattractive. But before he could figure out how to respond, the two bigger boys had led him, practically pushed him, into a small alcove.

"Hey," Frank said suddenly. "Maybe he needs a little help. A little instruction."

"No!" Gordo screamed, ready to bolt.

"Chill, dude! We're not going to do it for you, we're not going to touch it. Sicko! But I'm sure we could find someone to give you a demonstration of the right way to withdraw. Hey, how about Suzy and Smithers? They're right here, and Smithers is such a damn showoff as it is, and Suzy's too wasted to know much of what's going on. I'm sure they wouldn't mind---"

"I'm not going to watch Smithers and his girlfriend having sex!" Gordo exclaimed, but in the next moment, as his eyes adjusted even further to the darkness of the alcove, he realized he already was. There were two figures down on the sand going at it big time.

"Oh, God…" Gordo said, turning away. He shouldn't feel like he was going to vomit, but that's exactly how he felt. And his head was spinning like mad, but somehow he managed to stumble out of the alcove, hearing both Ethan and Frank behind him, shouting, "Hey, Gordon! Where ya goin'?' and then there was something about some people being so unappreciative, though in their drunken state, the long word came out sounding somewhat different.

Gordo ran out of there as fast as he could. Another moment more and he could see the light of the bonfire. And then, as he staggered up the path, he ran headlong into Lizzie, coming to find him.

"Gordo!" she exclaimed. "Where were you? You weren't in Make Out Cove, were you? Who were you there with? Gordo! Answer me!"

Lizzie sounded a bit frantic, imagining the embarrassment of her boyfriend cheating on her in such a public setting. Her imaginary embarrassment, however, could not compare to what Gordo was feeling at this moment in response to the fallout from her very real indiscretions about their personal life.

"Lizzie!" he screamed, hearing his own voice as more harsh than he knew it could sound. "What the hell? What the _fuck?_ Do you know what you've done? Do you have any idea?"

"Gordo! What are you talking about?"

"Oh my God! You are so clueless! You are so stupid!"

"Gordo!" Lizzie screamed desperately, scared and confused. "What happened? What are you talking about?"

Around the edges of his peception Gordo knew that people were stopping to listen. A lover's quarrel was always good entertainment. He knew he should stop right there, but he found he could not stop.

He heard himself go on, saying, "Everybody knows! Everybody knows what happened between us, it's all over the place. You don't think that's freakin' embarrassing? You couldn't see what was going to happen when you told your friends? Your fuckin' stupid friends? Or maybe you don't care. Do you not care, Lizzie? Or is it that you're too stupid to know? Which one is it, Lizzie? Don't know? Or don't care? Or is it a little of both?"

"Gordo!" Lizzie cried, and by this time she really was crying. Some of her friends, the stupid friends Gordo had just insulted, came to her side, putting their arms around her and yelling at him to "Get the fuck out of Lizzie's face, you asshole!"

Gordo didn't pay them any mind. He just kept yelling and screaming. He didn't even know what he was saying after a while. He only knew this was it, he was flipping out, he had cracked. He was having a nervous breakdown and everybody was there to witness it.

Well, everybody but Miranda. But then she was there as well, and seeing her come to the front of the crowd that had gathered was the only thing that could somehow restore to him some sense of who he really was. She looked him right in the eye and said firmly, "Gordo. Stop it. Just stop."

And then he did. He just stopped. He stared at her, and he stared at Lizzie, wailing in the background, surrounded by her stupid friends. Lizzie….Miranda…and Gordo. Something thumped back into his soul.

_Oh my God! h_e thought. _Who am I? What am I doing?_

Everything was deadly silent the moment Gordo stopped screaming. He could actually hear the waves beating against the rocks. Everybody was looking at him. Numbly he scanned the faces, all the astonished expressions. He knew what they were all thinking: _Little David Gordon finally lost his brilliant mind. And I was there to witness it. _ This was going to make such a good story back in school on Monday.

Gordo felt his eyes glazing over. There was no other way to deal with this upmost embarrassment than to simply pass out. That was probably the best solution. He felt he was going to pass out.

Until his eyes ran over Miranda. She alone held his gaze with something other than astonishment, ridicule, contempt. In her large brown eyes he could easily see her concern, how much she was hurting for him.

He didn't want anyone to be hurting for him. He couldn't take any more human interaction. It was all bullshit. He wanted to be alone. He turned quickly and disappeared.

-

-

**12:10 a.m.**

The way this beach area was set up, there was very little good parking close by, so Gordo had been forced to leave his car in a small office parking lot several blocks away. The walk from here to the beach earlier this evening had been all about friends and conversation, anticipation for an enjoyable night, but now Gordo found himself taking the return trip alone and fighting back tears.

He still didn't know who he was or what he was doing, but he did know it was unlikely he was going to reach his car before the first sob that was stuck in his throat, demanding release, finally made its way into the thin early morning air.

He was fumbling with the key in the lock when the sob finally broke forth, piercing the darkness like the cry of a wild animal. He threw himself into the driver's seat, and in the safety of his very own car, it all came out.

_So this is what it's like to have a nervous breakdown,_ he thought as he wailed. He had heard his parents the psychiatrists talk about all kinds of mental and emotional conditions on numerous occasions. If he had to perform a self- diagnosis at this moment, he would say nervous breakdown.

And in the next moment he chided himself for doing a self-diagnosis and not just letting this happen. Why was it that he could never simply turn off his brain and _be_ in the moment? He had to analyze freaking _everything_! What kind of sick bastard was he? No wonder he was so messed up.

This chiding inner dialog went on for some time, as did his tears and sobs, and at last he began to feel somewhat better, though completely exhausted.

He looked at the clock. It was 12:30. It was a new day, and he had been awake, except for that brief nap on the living room couch, exactly twenty and a half hours. Were people really supposed to stay awake that long, running and thinking and fighting and doing everything they could to try to please everyone else in their lives except themselves? It wasn't right, it wasn't right, it wasn't—

"Ahhh!" Gordo jumped.

He looked at the passenger side window and saw a hand knocking on the glass..


	5. A New Day

_I have made it through the hurricane and now four days later there is electricity down at the local Barnes and Noble, so here I am, finally back at my computer, and posting the last chapter of this story, which has been trapped in my lifeless computer all this while. Being able to post a chapter to FF makes life feel almost NORMAL again._

_This is the end of this story, but I have another one almost completely written (Ethan and Veruca as Goths) which I will release slowly during the month of November, so I will provide some amusing material during the NaNo month, when I shall actually be otherwise engaged._

_BTW, Juan Pablo, I can't seem to get through to you by e-mail at the moment, it may have something to do with the fact that I am not on my usual server, and also you seem to be having problems with your connection as well. Write back, and we will have to figure this out!_

_And now, on to the last chapter of Just Stop---which by the way, has been a blast!_

-

-

**12:30a.m.**

Gordo was still staring at the hand knocking on the passenger side window when suddenly a face appeared. It was Miranda. He heard her jiggling the door handle as she said, "Gordo! Let me in!"

Gordo closed his eyes and sighed. Yes, he wanted to let Miranda in. More than anything, he wanted to let Miranda in. Yet he hesitated. Letting people in was scary. Look what had happened with him and Lizzie. And what about his parents? They all wanted to take over his life, and then he ended up resenting the intrusion. Did he want to take that chance with Miranda?

He must have locked the door when he got into the car. He didn't even remember doing it. It was instinctive. Miranda kept jiggling the door handle, saying, "Gordo…Gordo…please…"

Hoping he wasn't going to regret this, Gordo unlocked the door and let Miranda in.

"Gordo---" she began, then stopped short, when she saw his face, blotchy and swollen from all the tears. "Oh… Gordo…" she breathed.

He put his hands over his face, to hide. For a little while, neither of them said anything, and Gordo was relieved to find that he had his crying under control. At least for the moment. Miranda was very good about not pushing him to talk until he was ready. But when he was ready he said, in a shaky voice, "Miranda, did I…did I just break up with Lizzie?"

"'You're ruining my life! I can't believe I've wasted so much time on you. If I never see you again, it won't be soon enough.'" Miranda repeated his words from earlier, then commented, "Yeah. I guess you pretty much broke up with her."

Gordo sighed heartily. "Is she okay?" he asked, his voice breaking.

"She's going to be okay," Miranda said. "Are you?"

Gordo looked down and didn't answer. Having Miranda here, talking to him, asking questions, made him feel like he might start crying again, and he certainly didn't want to do that in front of her.

"Gordo…" she said gently.

"I said that?" he asked incredulously. "I really said that? I don't remember."

"You said that… and a whole lot more," Miranda informed carefully.

"I did? Oh God! Miranda, I'm afraid to ask. I remember so little of what happened. What else did I say?"

Miranda took a deep breath. "Well, there was a whole lot of stuff about Lizzie, about her pressuring you to have sex---"

"Oh, God!" Gordo wailed. "I said that? I said that in front of everybody?" That's it, he decided. He was moving to China.

"But after that, you sort of went off on this tangent about how much you hate running track, how stupid it is. And then you went off on your teachers, and poor Mr. Simon the Guidance Counselor, who's always been so nice to me, Gordo, I don't know what your problem is with him.

"And then you really laid into your parents. I mean, you _really_ laid into them, Gordo. All about the SAT's and the Ivy League schools and a bunch of other stuff about playing the violin and pre-med and Little League and car insurance. I don't know, after a while it got kind of incomprehensible. And then…and then…oh, Gordo…"

She said "Oh, Gordo" because now he was crying again, his face in his hands, unsuccessfully attempting to hold back a series of giant sobs that made his whole body shake.

"Oh, Gordo…" Miranda said again, and she laid her head against his arm, wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him as hard as she could.

This was worse than before. This was the absolute worst. But then, because he knew it couldn't get any worse than it already was, Gordo suddenly felt free to go with it, to just let it happen. Miranda had already seen the worst, so why try to hide any longer?

Besides, he didn't give a crap anymore what anybody thought about him. He was way past that. He was moving to China, anyway, so what the hell did it matter?

It took a while, but finally Gordo seemed to be all cried out. Miranda loosened her grip on him a little, and he took his soaking wet hands from his eyes, wiped them on his pants, then reached up and squeezed her arms in thanks.

"Do you feel better?" Miranda asked quietly.

"Not really," Gordo said. "To tell you the truth, I feel like shit. Like absolute shit. I can't face anybody ever again. And I can't do any of this any more, Miranda. I just can't do this anymore."

"Can't do what, Gordo?"

"This! My life. I just can't do it. I don't want to do it anymore."

"What are you saying, Gordo? You're not saying---?"

He laughed a little, very sadly. "No, of course not. I'm way too much of a coward for that."

"No," Miranda said. "I think you're way to smart for that. And because you are so smart, I'm surprised you haven't figured out yet what it is that you need to do."

"What do I need to do, Miranda? Are you saying you know? Because if you know, don't keep me in suspense. Please. Let me know. I'm lost here, I'm drowning. I'm totally open to suggestions. What have you got?"

_So!_ Miranda thought. _ The mighty David Gordon. Finally. Finally._ She sat up straight and pulled him sideways so that he was facing her. Oh God, he looked awful. But it was in this moment, when he looked awful and felt like absolute shit that she knew she was finally going to be able to get through to him.

"Gordo," she said firmly. "Listen to me. This is what you need to do. You need to _stop._ You need to…._just…stop…."_

Gordo sniffed. "Just stop what?"

"Everything!" Miranda exclaimed. "Everything that's driving you crazy, everything that you hate about your life. Come on, Gordo, don't be such an ass! Who's life is it anyway? Is it your life or not? Then why are you letting everyone else live it for you? Why are you letting everyone else boss you around? What happened to that confident kid I knew in middle school? The one who knew exactly where he wanted to go, and exactly how to get there?"

"I don't know," Gordo said miserably. "I think he's still here. Somewhere. Somewhere underneath all this other…crap…"

"I know he's still there," Miranda said. "I still see him, now and then, in an odd moment, when you think nobody is looking…"

Gordo was acutely aware of Miranda's dark eyes shining at him in the moonlight. So! Miranda could still see him! Even when he couldn't see himself, Miranda could still see him. That had to mean something…

He took a deep breath, thinking about her words. Just Stop. For the first time in a long time, he felt a glimmer of hope. He looked deeply at her, as if she held all the answers to all his questions, and he asked simply, "And how would I do that, Miranda? How do I…just stop…?"

Miranda smiled. She had been wanting to have this talk with Gordo for some time now. She had even tried before, on several occasions, but he had always been too preoccupied or, she realized now, simply not ready. But now he was ready. He was so ready. And so she began to talk to him.

And he listened.

-

**1:30 a.m.**

They had been talking for almost an hour. In the middle of it, both Charlie and Lizzie called Miranda's cell, and when everybody knew where everybody else was and how they were all getting home, it seemed to cement the fact that there was going to be a change in their lives. In all their lives.

It was established that Lizzie did not want to talk with Gordo, and if she never saw him again in her life it would be too soon, and she was getting a ride home with Heather.

Charlie asked Miranda, "What about us?" and Miranda asked Charlie if he could find a ride home with somebody else, maybe Dirk and Amy. She might be a while. She was taking care of Gordo.

"Taking care of Gordo?" Charlie screamed into the phone. "Miranda! What the hell are you _doing_ for him?"

"Shut up, Charlie," Miranda said simply. "Find a ride home. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

At that point, Miranda advised Gordo that it would be best if he put the car in motion. She knew that tone in Charlie's voice well enough to suspect that he might come looking for them, and she didn't want to have to deal with him now. This moment was all about Gordo, and she didn't want anybody else messing it up.

So Gordo put the car on the dark, empty road, and as he drove, Miranda continued talking. She told him all the ways she thought he could take his life back, and she made so much sense.

This was all stuff he had thought about himself, of course, mostly in the middle of the night when he sometimes woke up, sweating and anxious, having a panic attack, and wondering how his life had gotten so out of control. The idea of stopping everything had occurred to him, but only as a fantasy. Hearing Miranda outline a plan for a simpler life made him realize it didn't have to be only a fantasy. He really could get his life back. He really could be happy again.

Gordo felt totally wired. Suddenly, he had so much hope. Things were going to be different now. They weren't necessarily going to be easier, because, if he followed Miranda's advice, he was going to have to deal with the confusion and disappointment of his friends, his teachers, and especially his parents, when he told them no, he wasn't doing that any more. If he didn't love it, he wasn't doing it. It was that simple.

And so he began to make some decisions. The first one was easy. He wasn't running any more. He hated it. And it was such a relief to know he no longer needed to get up at five o'clock in the morning.

He made another decision. He wasn't going to fill out another scholarship application. He had all the money he needed to go to UC and get into their Film Studies program. Mr. Simon would need to find another way to make Hillridge High shine.

He wasn't going to an Ivy League school, he wasn't going into pre-med, and he certainly wasn't going to take the SAT for a third time. He knew his parents would lay on the disappointment and guilt in super-sized servings, but Gordo now had hope that he could stand up against it.

"I can deal with them, I can deal with it all," he told Miranda. "I feel stronger already, But I'm still going to need your help, Randa, your strength."

"I'll support you, Gordo," she promised.

"I'm serious," Gordo said. "It's going to be tough for me, especially at first. I never could handle the parental disappointment. But now I think I can."

"The parental disappointment is not going to be your main issue," Miranda reminded. "Your biggest problem is---and always has been, by the way---the pressure you put on yourself, Gordo. Even back in middle school, when you had it all together, you were always fighting against that, don't you remember?"

Gordo nodded. "Sure. I remember. I know. I'm my own worst enemy."

"Well…stop!" Miranda cried. "Just stop! Ease up on yourself a little, okay?"

"I want to," Gordo said. "And I think I can. As long as you're there with me, reminding me, keeping me on track. As a Recovering Perfectionist, I'm going to need help, Miranda. Lots of help."

"I'm there," Miranda grinned. "I'm totally there for you, Gordo. Just you try to get rid of me."

Back in their own neighborhood now, Gordo pulled his car up at the curb in front of Miranda's house. He turned off the engine and there was dead silence.

Get rid of Miranda? "Nah…" he said after a moment, with a small smile. "I wouldn't try to do that."

Miranda smiled. "Good," she said quietly. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

Gordo felt a tingling inside him. Something was happening here with Miranda. Three times now she had vowed her presence and support in his life. Of course she was his friend, and had been for almost as long as he could remember, but somehow this felt different. As Gordo wondered if something could be changing, he also wondered if he was ready for such a change at this delicate point in his life.

They sat quietly in the car for quite a long time, each thinking their private thoughts, unwilling for this time together to end. Then suddenly Miranda said, "You know, I saw this coming for a long time."

Gordo tensed up. Was she thinking the same things he was thinking? "Saw what?" he asked carefully.

"About you and Lizzie. I suspected you two were getting ready to break up."

"Why?" Gordo asked. "Did she say something to you?" Oh no! Not the "mishap" again! Why did everything always have to come back to the "mishap"? He didn't want to talk to Miranda about that, at least not now.

But Miranda said, "No. Lizzie didn't say anything. Lizzie is pretty much clueless. I don't think she had the slightest idea this was coming tonight. But I've been watching you, Gordo. I could tell something was changing inside you."

Yes, something was changing. Gordo was just thinking that himself. He wondered if Miranda could tell how his feelings for her were changing. He didn't want to come right out and ask, but he did say, "I've been watching you too, Miranda. Like…for instance…I saw how you handled Charlie tonight, when he tried to get you into Make Out Cove. You were very strong. I was impressed."

Miranda made a scoffing sound. "There's nothing to be impressed about. I know what Charlie wanted to do, and I don't want to do it. At least not with him. I was just standing up for myself. That's what I'm talking about, Gordo. You've got to stand up for yourself, not take shit from anyone."

"Yeah, but…you were still so strong, even after you'd been drinking. You didn't let that cloud your judgement."

"I'll tell you a little secret," Miranda said. "I wasn't drinking."

"But I saw you drinking."

"No, you didn't," Miranda explained. "What you saw me doing was the same thing I saw you doing. I watched you, Gordo, and I saw how you pretended to drink, then spit it out, and spilled it out. I decided to do the same thing. I guess I fooled you as much as you fooled everybody else."

Gordo laughed. "Except you! I didn't fool you."

"Nice little trick, by the way," Miranda said. "I need to thank you for that one. I knew that Charlie would try to take advantage of me if he could. Your little ploy really helped me keep my head clear when I couldn't afford to have my judgement clouded."

"So then…you and Charlie…?"

Miranda sighed. "Charlie's okay. But he's not the one."

Gordo nodded, understanding completely.

There were a few more minutes of silence, when neither was willing to say it was time for the evening to end. Gordo went back to his thoughts, reviewing this conversation in his mind, then he decided to take a step into the future by saying, "So…Randa…you watched me pretending to drink, I watched you with Charlie. It seems you and I have been watching each other quite a bit lately, huh?"

Miranda bit her lip. "I guess so," she said, shyly.

Gordo felt his heart racing, hardly believing he was willing to be this bold. "Do you think… it means anything?" he asked hopefully.

Miranda took a deep breath and said, "Gordo, you just broke up with Lizzie. I'm still with Charlie. Let's not rush anything, okay? There'll be plenty of time."

Gordo nodded. "Yeah, you're right," he agreed, feeling somewhat sheepish.

Miranda turned and smiled at him, her grin about to pop off her face, and that made him feel better.

"What?" he asked, also smiling.

"I have an idea," Miranda said. "Why don't you come in? I taped the Olsen Twins. We could make some popcorn and watch it."

Gordo laughed. "Nix on the popcorn. My stomach's been pretty bad lately, and that would do me in big time. But I'd love to see the Olsen Twins. Only I'm warning you, I've been up almost twenty four hours now, so I don't know how long I'm going to be able to stay awake for it."

"That's all right," Miranda said. "Call your folks and tell them you're sleeping over. On the couch. Like you used to, when we were kids. They won't have any problem with that, will they? And I don't think my folks will, either; they love you, you know. They think that David Gordon is such a nice boy."

Gordo laughed again. Maybe he was finally getting delirious, but it sounded like this day, which had begun with him doubled over on the side of the road, wanting to vomit, was going to end up with him close to Miranda, stretched out on her couch, falling asleep to the Olsen Twins.

Miranda kept grinning at him. "Come on, Shaggy!" she teased, mussing up his hair. "Don't think! Just do it! It'll be fun!"

Gordo kept laughing as he opened the car door. "All right," he said. "All right, Miranda. Let's do it. Fun. You know, I think that's exactly what I need."


End file.
